It Doesn’t Matter
It doesn’t matter anymore
Who’s right or wrong, who’s keeping score.
Whatever we were looking for,
you’re set on walking out the door
It doesn’t matter what I say
You wouldn’t listen anyway
It’s black and white, no shades of gray,
So you’ve decided not to stay
What good we had has come and gone;
It makes no sense to linger on
the hurt we both have deep inside
and all the lonely tears we’ve cried.
It doesn’t matter who’s to blame;
two hearts are breaking, just the same.
There’s nothing left to lean upon;
it doesn’t matter, ’cause it’s gone.
It doesn’t matter, not at all,
who slipped, who was the first to fall;
The writing’s clear upon the wall:
it’s really anybody’s call.
It doesn’t matter, in the end;
there’s no use trying to pretend
that what we had we could defend;
it’s broken now, it wouldn’t bend.
What good we had has come and gone;
It makes no sense to linger on
the hurt we both held deep inside
and all the lonely tears we’ve cried.
It doesn’t matter who’s to blame;
two hearts are breaking, just the same.
There’s nothing left to lean upon;
it doesn’t matter, ’cause it’s gone.
16 JAN 2006
01.16.06
When You Were Mine
I’ve been listening today to a lot of early Merle Haggard. He’s always been one of my biggest influences, particularly as a songwriter — although as a singer, particularly his work in the sixties, there was NOBODY as fluid or versatile, not even Elvis, as far as I’m concerned, and for me that’s saying a lot. Anyway, drawing water from the Merle well is always inspirational, and to drink such early vintage is heady stuff, which inspired me to write another drinking song.
Yes, my body wears the scars
from long nights spent at the bar;
I’ve grown old before my time
Become vintage, like this wine.
In my younger, bolder days
I followed wild and dangerous ways;
Now I’m tired and worn clear through
by those things I used to do.
If I could go back, try to undo
the ways I tried to get over you,
instead of drinking, try something new,
what would that get me, what would that prove?
There’s too much sorrow, too much pain;
don’t want to live through it all again.
I’d rather wear out before my time
than relive remembering when you were mine.
I’ve poured fortunes down the drain,
spent nights standing out in the rain,
grown sick and tired, and aged 10 years,
much like the whiskey I’ve got right here.
You should have seen me in my prime:
I was so reckless, it was sublime;
Now I’m just waiting around to see
how long it takes to lose all of me.
If I could go back, try to undo
the ways I tried to get over you,
instead of drinking, try something new,
what would that get me, what would that prove?
There’s too much sorrow, too much pain;
don’t want to live through it all again.
I’d rather wear out before my time
than relive remembering when you were mine.
16 JAN 2006
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Your Right
for Merle Haggard
I’m an easy-going guy as far as that’s concerned
I tend to only simmer where another fellow burns
Let live and go on living is the lesson that I’ve learned
I only ask for the same in return
Some fellows look for reasons to get into fights
They claim its just protection of their natural rights
But that’s no call to start a brawl near every night
When I’m trying to relax and just get tight
You’re free to exercise your right to party
You’re free to get real loud and cause a scene
You’re free to get attention by stating your intention
To go through life big, ugly, dumb and mean
This country was built in the name of freedom
and to protect it, I will come to blows
Your rights mean something to me,
but don’t bring ’em too close to me, ’cause
your right to swing your fist ends at my nose.
I’m patriotic, and I’ll wave the flag now and again
My country’s enemies are mine, and its friends are my friends
But there’s a way that breaks, and one that merely bends,
and it looks like you’ve confused them once again.
You’re free to exercise your right to party
You’re free to get real loud and cause a scene
You’re free to get attention by stating your intention
To go through life big, ugly, dumb and mean
This country was built in the name of freedom
and to protect it, I will come to blows
Your rights mean something to me,
but don’t bring ’em too close to me, ’cause
your right to swing your fist ends at my nose.
16 JAN 2006
| Posted in Poems, Songs, Statements | No Comments »
| Posted in Poems, Statements | No Comments »